Mojo sat down on the stone bench with a sigh, feeling some comfort in the solidness of the worked stone. He watched Saffron and Ogrel walk to the other members of the group to gather them at his request. This vagabond group of motley comrades, cast together by “the spite of fate”, a favorite phrase of his mentor as Mojo recollected. As the group gathered around, Mojo could see the various stares and glances, some neutral, some in disbelief, some cautious and others worried and uneasy. And some noticed that Mojo had left his sword, “Black Betty”, some thirty feet away knowing Mojo almost never left it out of reach. The stares and glares, the attention was making Mojo tense and nervous, which in turn was making him angry. With everyone gathered, Mojo drew in a deep breath, looked off into the distance and out loud clearly chanted the calming phrase his mentor created for him, his mantra:
“The Body is Full of Power”
“The Power Moves the Body”
“The Mind Controls the Body”
“The Power thus Yields to the Mind”
“My Mind, My Will”
Mojo focused his attention back to the group. “Thus is the phrase my mentor gave for me to control my rage, my rage which in turn can be a trigger for my legacy, lycanthropy as some call it, or were-wolf as the common phrase. My legacy is hereditary via family blood-line. As told to me by my parents, per the legends of werewolves, I can not pass my lycanthropy on by biting, a full moon also does not affect me. The theory is the blood line has been diluted over the generations. This is the story as told to me how this came about. The story goes back to the founders of my village. It is not known whether one or more of them was already afflicted and it was a reason why they settled in remote hilly region or that the affliction came later on. Over time, the village grew as it prospered by the small mine in the hills and ridges and protected by vigilance of the village scouts and guards. Also, over the years came attacks and sightings of some wolf monster of which only a few wolves would ever be attacked, hunted and tracked to its lair, only to find the latest victim of the beast. In time, someone figured it out the riddle, they captured a werewolf and proved it to the village leaders that it was one of themselves. The leaders were able to devise a test to “bring out the beast” and applied this test to all in the village, killing any who changed for the good of the village. In fear of word getting out, all were swore to an oath to never reveal and no one was allowed to ever leave for fear it getting tracked back to the village and then everyone would be killed to cleanse the curse. Wandering strangers were never allowed to stay long and usually “encouraged” to leave quickly, even tinkers and traders were treated with least acceptance possible.
Over the years, the test became narrowed to being performed at the “coming of age” as it been discovered this was when the werewolf legacy could earliest show itself without any control, any who did was labeled “sick tainted” and taken away to be never seen or talked off again, yes they were killed to be blunt. The test is three days of torture, chained to a floor, and taunted, humiliated, whipped until you collapsed or showed the legacy of being "sick tainted". Any who passed, it was explained to them the need for the test and swore an oath to the village. Soon it became rare for someone to be “sick tainted”.
Yes, even I was tested and had my first meeting with the “spite of fate”, though I did not know it then. I only remember the first day of testing, the rest is a blur as I would rage, black out, awaken, only to rage again to strike at those tormenting me. But I passed and became only the second person I know of to ever pass the test and have the blood legacy of the werewolf. My parents both were leaders of the guards and scouts who protected the village. Even back then I was tall and fast for my age, had a good sense of direction and reliable. Stories of my rage in testing had circulated around and after several vicious fights, my father decided to get me out of the village as much as possible as a scout or to deliver messages to other villages. While I was out on a message errand, somehow, somebody discovered the werewolf legacy of my village and ordered the attack to wipe it out. I came upon two deserter soldiers scavenging for money and trinkets among the pile of burning dead people, and heard them talk of “wiping out village of werewolf scum” and laughing pointing at a form staked in middle of burning pile, it was my mother half changed to were-wolf as she died. At that point, I went crazy and attacked the two soldiers and blacked out. I woke some time later and saw both soldiers’ dead, they were clawed and bitten and my body was covered in blood, the taste in my mouth. I saw giant wolf prints in the torn ground and realized I had the blood line. As I slowly gathered my senses, I took off to warn my older sister and younger brother who were both out at a nearby small hamlet a few days away. Again, the spite of fate got in way of my goal as I was attacked by a small group of orc raiders, I was badly wounded and only my raging in werewolf form was able to hold them off from quickly killing me but it was a losing battle. Just as I collapsed dying in my human body, I was rescued by my future mentor, a wizard whose magic finished off the last orc raiders. Why he decided to help me, he never said other than “the fickle finger of fate”. It took a few weeks for me to recover from my wounds and fevers. My mentor had connections to try and help find where my brother and sister might be but very little information was known. In meantime, since I owed him my life, I worked for him as a body guard and delivered messages for him. I had warned him of my “legacy” but I think he did not quite believe me until he was attacked at his office by an opposing trade group of goons with a merc cleric of Surtur, during the battle I went rage and changed into werewolf and we killed them all. I was distantly aware of my actions and when I went to attack him, my mentor had to subdue me with a giant spider spell and used a billy club to the head to knock me out.
After that fight and I had recovered, over the next few weeks he cast some arcane spells on me to study my “legacy” and to try to figure out some control method. He came up with the mantra for me to use. He also told me that he detected some other latent skill in me though he had no sense what it might be. Since that battle with the goons, I had only gone into rage once but did not change. A few months later, on a message delivery to another town to follow up on information about my brother and sister, I was captured by orc slavers. They seem to know about me as they put a sleep spell and then some other spell to take away my strength as they tied me up. I believe I was betrayed by someone in my mentor’s business being jealous of my position.
The battle yesterday was the first time since my capture I have changed into my legacy or even raged. In truth, I have felt myself close to rage a few times, I have been able to control it so far. My thanks to not killing me off when you all had chance to do so and I regret my attack at you Hunter. I have a strong urge to get back to my home area, to protect my mentor though time has likely passed for that. Also I want to find my brother and sister, although they likely are dead or better off with me staying away if still alive. A favorite saying of mentor “the spite of fate”, it has intruded on my life much too often. So what is my fate with the group?”
The next day after Mojo Dark Secret Exposed:
Mojo sat down on the stone bench with a sigh, feeling some comfort in the solidness of the worked stone. He watched Saffron and Ogrel walk to the other members of the group to gather them at his request. This vagabond group of motley comrades, cast together by “the spite of fate”, a favorite phrase of his mentor as Mojo recollected. As the group gathered around, Mojo could see the various stares and glances, some neutral, some in disbelief, some cautious and others worried and uneasy. And some noticed that Mojo had left his sword, “Black Betty”, some thirty feet away knowing Mojo almost never left it out of reach. The stares and glares, the attention was making Mojo tense and nervous, which in turn was making him angry. With everyone gathered, Mojo drew in a deep breath, looked off into the distance and out loud clearly chanted the calming phrase his mentor created for him, his mantra:
“The Body is Full of Power”
“The Power Moves the Body”
“The Mind Controls the Body”
“The Power thus Yields to the Mind”
“My Mind, My Will”
Mojo focused his attention back to the group. “Thus is the phrase my mentor gave for me to control my rage, my rage which in turn can be a trigger for my legacy, lycanthropy as some call it, or were-wolf as the common phrase. My legacy is hereditary via family blood-line. As told to me by my parents, per the legends of werewolves, I can not pass my lycanthropy on by biting, a full moon also does not affect me. The theory is the blood line has been diluted over the generations. This is the story as told to me how this came about. The story goes back to the founders of my village. It is not known whether one or more of them was already afflicted and it was a reason why they settled in remote hilly region or that the affliction came later on. Over time, the village grew as it prospered by the small mine in the hills and ridges and protected by vigilance of the village scouts and guards. Also, over the years came attacks and sightings of some wolf monster of which only a few wolves would ever be attacked, hunted and tracked to its lair, only to find the latest victim of the beast. In time, someone figured it out the riddle, they captured a werewolf and proved it to the village leaders that it was one of themselves. The leaders were able to devise a test to “bring out the beast” and applied this test to all in the village, killing any who changed for the good of the village. In fear of word getting out, all were swore to an oath to never reveal and no one was allowed to ever leave for fear it getting tracked back to the village and then everyone would be killed to cleanse the curse. Wandering strangers were never allowed to stay long and usually “encouraged” to leave quickly, even tinkers and traders were treated with least acceptance possible.
Over the years, the test became narrowed to being performed at the “coming of age” as it been discovered this was when the werewolf legacy could earliest show itself without any control, any who did was labeled “sick tainted” and taken away to be never seen or talked off again, yes they were killed to be blunt. The test is three days of torture, chained to a floor, and taunted, humiliated, whipped until you collapsed or showed the legacy of being "sick tainted". Any who passed, it was explained to them the need for the test and swore an oath to the village. Soon it became rare for someone to be “sick tainted”.
Yes, even I was tested and had my first meeting with the “spite of fate”, though I did not know it then. I only remember the first day of testing, the rest is a blur as I would rage, black out, awaken, only to rage again to strike at those tormenting me. But I passed and became only the second person I know of to ever pass the test and have the blood legacy of the werewolf. My parents both were leaders of the guards and scouts who protected the village. Even back then I was tall and fast for my age, had a good sense of direction and reliable. Stories of my rage in testing had circulated around and after several vicious fights, my father decided to get me out of the village as much as possible as a scout or to deliver messages to other villages. While I was out on a message errand, somehow, somebody discovered the werewolf legacy of my village and ordered the attack to wipe it out. I came upon two deserter soldiers scavenging for money and trinkets among the pile of burning dead people, and heard them talk of “wiping out village of werewolf scum” and laughing pointing at a form staked in middle of burning pile, it was my mother half changed to were-wolf as she died. At that point, I went crazy and attacked the two soldiers and blacked out. I woke some time later and saw both soldiers’ dead, they were clawed and bitten and my body was covered in blood, the taste in my mouth. I saw giant wolf prints in the torn ground and realized I had the blood line. As I slowly gathered my senses, I took off to warn my older sister and younger brother who were both out at a nearby small hamlet a few days away. Again, the spite of fate got in way of my goal as I was attacked by a small group of orc raiders, I was badly wounded and only my raging in werewolf form was able to hold them off from quickly killing me but it was a losing battle. Just as I collapsed dying in my human body, I was rescued by my future mentor, a wizard whose magic finished off the last orc raiders. Why he decided to help me, he never said other than “the fickle finger of fate”. It took a few weeks for me to recover from my wounds and fevers. My mentor had connections to try and help find where my brother and sister might be but very little information was known. In meantime, since I owed him my life, I worked for him as a body guard and delivered messages for him. I had warned him of my “legacy” but I think he did not quite believe me until he was attacked at his office by an opposing trade group of goons with a merc cleric of Surtur, during the battle I went rage and changed into werewolf and we killed them all. I was distantly aware of my actions and when I went to attack him, my mentor had to subdue me with a giant spider spell and used a billy club to the head to knock me out.
After that fight and I had recovered, over the next few weeks he cast some arcane spells on me to study my “legacy” and to try to figure out some control method. He came up with the mantra for me to use. He also told me that he detected some other latent skill in me though he had no sense what it might be. Since that battle with the goons, I had only gone into rage once but did not change. A few months later, on a message delivery to another town to follow up on information about my brother and sister, I was captured by orc slavers. They seem to know about me as they put a sleep spell and then some other spell to take away my strength as they tied me up. I believe I was betrayed by someone in my mentor’s business being jealous of my position.
The battle yesterday was the first time since my capture I have changed into my legacy or even raged. In truth, I have felt myself close to rage a few times, I have been able to control it so far. My thanks to not killing me off when you all had chance to do so and I regret my attack at you Hunter. I have a strong urge to get back to my home area, to protect my mentor though time has likely passed for that. Also I want to find my brother and sister, although they likely are dead or better off with me staying away if still alive. A favorite saying of mentor “the spite of fate”, it has intruded on my life much too often. So what is my fate with the group?”
.